


10 Drabbles at a Time (2/5)

by DrHurtsSoGood



Series: 50 Good Omens Drabbles in 5 parts [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 13:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrHurtsSoGood/pseuds/DrHurtsSoGood
Summary: 10 more drabbles in a 50 drabble series





	10 Drabbles at a Time (2/5)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Usedtobehmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usedtobehmc/gifts).



11\. Sunrise 

Crowley sat dejectedly on the eastern edge Uluru in Australia and watched the sunrise. The ash in the atmosphere was filtering the sun making it redder and more wonderful with every passing second. The World was waking and finding itself anew. The desert rocks played shadows over the landscape, and low blooming grasses shook their scented heads, readying for the day.

His dark glasses swung back and forth in his hand. Two light drops of moisture fell from Crowley’s cheeks.

“I said a lot of mean things.” He spoke aloud, “I made a lot of empty promises, too. Can you blame me? My first relationship in six thousand years, and I fucked it up. Of course I did. Who doesn’t need practice.”

He touched the dry dirt and pushed a little power into it, bringing one familiar creature to the surface. A young woma python slithered obediently to his hand. 

“Thought I knew what I was doing.” He asked the snake to curl its brown and white striped body along his arm, and it conceded. It was warm. Crowley made it a little warmer for her.

“Just give them what they want, right? And listen, I guess.” 

The woma looked him in the eye and tilted her little yellow head. 

“Why can’t it just be that simple?”

Rather than dry his tears, Crowley just brought a little hellfire to his cheeks and they burned away into the desert air. 

“I guess if we wanted things to stay the same, we wouldn’t ask for anything more. Well bugger that. I hate things getting stale. You’ve got to change things up at least every…oof ten years?”

The snake wound from Crowley’s hand up his arm and over his shoulder to his ear. She lapped at the air around him. She liked him. She whispered.

“Yes, I know I have to apologize. I just don’t know where to start or what to say. I’ll figure it out, though.”

He let the little girl down to the ground easy. She was reluctant to go. She felt he was a kindred spirit.

“Thanks for listening.” He stared off into the sunrise one more time, then put on his sunglasses to obscure his reptilian eyes. “Would you like some breakfast?”

He snapped his fingers and a mouse who was very comfortably sleeping in a nearby burrow just a moment ago suddenly found itself in a very uncomfortable position, and then it didn’t find itself anywhere at all. 

12\. Pretense

“Right so, I thought I’d bring these things around for you. Just in case you needed them.” Aziraphale handed Crowley a small philipshead screw. 

“Not really a ‘things’ as more of a ‘thing’, really.” Crowley turned the screw over in his hand. It was about an inch long and the traditional metal. Totally nondescript. “And I don’t think it’s even mine.”

“No? Oh, that’s a shame. I guess I’ll have to keep trying to find its owner.” Aziraphale pocketed the little screw.

“Actually, I don’t think you need to bother.” 

They stood there with nothing to say to each other and Aziraphale felt uncomfortable. It was Crowley’s habit to feel very comfortable whenever Aziraphale wasn’t. He smiled.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, well, if it wouldn’t be a bother.” Aziraphale made his way past Crowley’s inviting arm. “I did have another reason for coming here.”

Crowley grinned wider, “Besides a short, sharp screw?”

Aziraphale blushed, “Why did you have to say that?”

“Tea?” Crowley offered.

“Yes please.”

“Cream and five sugars, yes?” Crowley was already mixing.

“Yes. Well, I had a question or two for you, Crowley. Regarding what happened during the non-apocalypse. You asked me to go away with you. You asked me to…well…I just wanted to know why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you would ask me to go away with you.” The words came out slowly, steady and rehearsed.

Tea appeared in the following silence. Crowley took great care not to touch Aziraphale’s hand as he passed the saucer.

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Oh? I don’t think so.”

“Because you’re my best friend. I said as much, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, you did. Was that all?”

“All what?”

“All we are?”

“What are you getting at, Angel?”

Aziraphale slunk in his seat. “Nothing, I’m sure.” 

13\. Slower

“If you could just let me out here.” Aziraphale pointed to the adjacent street. 

Crowley balked, “Angel, you just got in the car. I haven't even turned it on yet.”

“Precisely.” Aziraphale gulped, “so I’ll just walk through the car sort of speak and that’s as far as I’d like to go. For now. Thank you.”

Crowley sighed, “You don’t like my car.”

“Oh dear chap, I’d never say that.” Aziraphale gulped. It’s true. He wasn’t saying that. He was trying very carefully not to say that. And he was failing. 

“Aziraphale, this car is an extension of myself. It’ll do anything I want to.” 

“Including 80 mph down Irish country roads. Yes, I know. It’s terrifying.”

Crowley scowled and didn’t know why*.

*People have a quaint joke about dating someone who’s cat doesn’t like you. If the cat doesn’t like you, it’s very likely not to work out between the two people. Likewise, if the cat likes you, it is very likely to work out between the cat’s owner and their beloved. If one person doesn’t like the other one’s cat, it’s not likely to work out either. What Crowley didn’t know was that despite Aziraphale not liking the car, the car (or rather the accumulation of 80 years of supernatural energy and demonic possession within the car) had quite taken a liking to Aziraphale. 

14\. Expand

Crowley pulled out a sleek, black smartphone. He grinned. “Always wanted one of these. Now that I’m off the books, seems like less of a risk to get one.”

He opened an app. “We’ll start with something slightly familiar.”

“What on Earth are you talking about? What are you up to?” Aziraphale craned his neck. 

“Maybe...ah. Here we are.” Crowley started playing a song. It began with a mournful, lone violin. Singing of its heartache. 

“What is this? It’s not Vivaldi.”

“No, it’s not. Something much younger.” The violin music slowly became accompanied by gentle electronica piano.

Aziraphale’s nose went up immediately. “You know I don’t go for that modern music. Bee-bop and all that jazz. I’m more...ethereal.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Yes I know. But just give it a try. For Christ- for Satan- for Pete sake, Vivaldi hasn’t had a hit in over 200 years. You need to expand your musical horizons.”

Aziraphale made a face, “Must I really?”

Crowley pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Maybe this isn’t such a brilliant idea.”

Aziraphale breathed a little easier, “Thank Heavens.”

Crowley smiled widely, “I’ve got a better one.” He held up his fingers. 

“Wait!” 

But before Aziraphale could fully get the word out, Crowley transported them with a snap of his fingers. 

“Oh dear.” Aziraphale winced. “Paperwork.”

15\. Never

Aziraphale slowly blinked his eyes and became aware that he was face down on the ground. He was groggy and confused.

“Arise, Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden.” The voice was commanding and familiar. 

Aziraphale picked himself up off the ground and looked up to see a large cone of light drawing him in.

“Where am I?”

“Arise, my Angel, and come to me.” The voice was so deeply engrained in his soul and his being he felt unable to resist.

One shaky step followed another.

“Come to me. Come home.”

He reached out to the large gates and they swung open before him. The light was blinding, and he barely blinked.

The fog began to clear. This wasn’t Home. It felt so different, but only now that he was inside did he realize his mistake.

The gateway closed behind him with a resounding boom. The light went out. Aziraphale was alone in the dark and the only voice he heard was a low, resonant laugh. He knew he’d never get out now.

16\. Gateway

The howling abyss pulled at them both with all the power of a collapsing star. Crowley hung on for dear life to the cast iron gate. The wind had stolen his glasses and his left shoe. His eyes were tearing, and he gritted his teeth hard. He couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer!” Aziraphale hung on to Crowley’s arm with every ounce of strength he had, and it wasn’t proving to be enough.

“That’s the second worst thing you’ve ever said.”

“What was the first?!” Aziraphale’s eyes were straining to remain open against the ripping wind.

“I believe your words were ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’! I think this would be IT!!!!”

“It does seem so!” He screamed above the din. Aziraphale’s hands started to slip down Crowley’s arm. “I’m so sorry, old friend! I think this is it for me!”

Crowley’s orange eye flashed a burning hellish red, “If you go, I go with you!”

Aziraphale nodded, “Together?!”

Crowley looked pained and then summoned forth the fury of Hell and stared into the sucking vortex. Do your worst, his face said. 

“Together!” And Crowley let go.

17\. History

The kiss lasted forever. It was everything and nothing. It was the summation of six thousand years of ideas and inklings and tender emotions and damned temptations. As they both gave in to the kiss, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist slowly and gently. Crowley, usually the hasty and passionate type, kept his cool and languid demeanor for once and it was paying off. He ran his fingers through his angel’s hair, and Aziraphale shuddered deliciously against him. He knew he mustn’t go too fast - this was a fragile bliss - but all of history could have passed them by in that moment.

18\. Spying

Crowley peaked out from behind a large column in the ancient library in Alexandria. That’s when he saw Aziraphale laughing and flirting shamelessly with that.. that..

“Saint? Whatever they call him. He’s up to no good.”

It was rumored the man was headed for sainthood. Crowley had been sent to tempt him away from this possible future when lo’ and behold, the angel had got there first. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Crowley jumped slightly at a young man at his elbow. He was wearing short, service robes and a gilded set of leaves about his head denoting his job in the library to keep the peace and tidy up occasionally.

“I’m…um…studying Egyptian mythology.”

“Not in this section you’re not. You’re spying.” The insufferable youth sniffed in Aziraphale’s direction. “On those two.”

19\. Forgotten

It came to him in a dream. Crowley waded through a thick bog covered in vines and moss. Every step dredged up more foul, bitter weeds and massive insects of disturbing jaw size. He trudged and fought and plucked his feet out of the sucking mud over and over again. It was exhausting and hot and so humid one couldn’t catch one’s breath.

Then in the fog thicker than pea soup, he heard a sound. A word. First a whisper and then clear as day. It was his name. His proper angel name. The one they stole from him when he was exiled from Heaven. He was never supposed to remember it, and yet here it was being screamed at him.

Crowley woke sharply, his body hot and sticky with sweat. Aziraphale, beside him in bed woke as well.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

“My name. I’ve remembered it.”

Aziraphale looked him in the eyes, for a brief moment, they were brown, not orange or slitted like a snake. For one moment after the dream, they were just human eyes. There were still tears in them.

“What was it?”

Crowley gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember. “No. No. It’s gone. Again.”

“Oh darling,” Aziraphale held his loving demon in his soft arms, “it’s alright.”

“Something is wrong. This is impossible.” 

“I know. It means that the walls between Heaven and Earth are dissolving.”

20\. Boundaries

“Have you no sense of boundaries??!!” Aziraphale snatched the book from Crowley’s alarmed grasp. “This is mine. My personal private journal. You had no right to…to…open it. What gave you such a terrible, evil idea?” The angel was quite apoplectic. His slightly chubby cheeks were red as the devil, and the devil standing next to him was white as angel wings.

“Aziraphale…I…” Crowley meant to apologize, but something about the words just didn’t come out.

“I don’t go poking around your private things. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly. You’re just horrible, Crowley. I can’t believe you’d—“

And that was when Crowley placed one hand on Aziraphale’s red cheek, and another on his waist and pulled him into the most delicious realization of his darkest fantasy.


End file.
